


Better Together

by MxTicketyBoo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxTicketyBoo/pseuds/MxTicketyBoo
Summary: Hilda’s unimpressed look could fell a weaker man, but all it does to Felix is get his back up. “Puh-leeze. For all Claude’s scheming, the two of you aren’t subtle. You also aren’t fooling anyone. We all know whose bed you sleep in at night, Felix Fraldarius, so spare me the denials, and let’s cut to the chase.” She plops down to the seat across from him and folds her arms over her ample chest. “Claude’s birthday is in three days. Now that you know, we have plans to make.”--Or: Hilda strong-arms Felix into planning Claude's birthday party. Nothing goes according to plan, but things end up exactly as they should anyway.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 78





	Better Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dustofwarfare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Claude! 
> 
> I wrote this super last minute and totally impulsively, but I hope you all enjoy it! :D This is Verdant Wind route, and all you really need to know is that Felix was recruited to the Golden Deer.
> 
> Thanks so much to iArgent for the idea that sparked this fic and to dustofwarfare for the brainstorming and beta read! <3 <3 <3

“So, Felix, what are your plans for Claude’s birthday?”

Felix looks up with a spicy meat skewer shoved halfway into his mouth. He grunts at Hilda, who despite him choosing the quietest table, in the farthest corner from the serving counter, somehow decided he’d welcome her approach anyway. She has her head tilted to the side, a lock of bright-pink hair curled around one finger, and though her expression is pleasantly inquisitive, her eyes are critical and sharp—as if she’s assessed everything from his clothes to his swords to his food selection and found them all lacking.

Felix swallows a mouthful of grilled, fatty fox. “When is his birthday?” he asks, setting down the now empty wooden skewer.

“You mean to tell me,” Hilda says, her voice rising in pitch, “you’ve been fraternizing with our dear leader and you haven’t bothered to ask him _any_ personal questions?”

“ _Hilda_ ,” Felix hisses. He quickly scans the dining hall, but no one seems to be paying them any mind, too focused on consuming their own meals so they can move on to their next task. “We have not been… what you said. Fraternizing.”

Hilda’s unimpressed look could fell a weaker man, but all it does to Felix is get his back up. “ _Puh_ -leeze. For all Claude’s scheming, the two of you aren’t subtle. You also aren’t fooling anyone. We all know whose bed you sleep in at night, Felix Fraldarius, so spare me the denials, and let’s cut to the chase.” She plops down to the seat across from him and folds her arms over her ample chest. “Claude’s birthday is in three days. Now that you know, we have plans to make.”

“Plans?” Felix shoves his plate away, his appetite abandoning him as his stomach sours. He and Claude are a thing, yes, but it’s their business, _their_ thing, still rather new, and he doesn’t appreciate anyone else intervening in their personal affairs. If it has to be known, he prefers it to be an open secret—recognized by all but never publicly acknowledged. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re at _war_. We march on Shambhala in ten days. Do you really think _now_ is the time for birthday celebrations?”

“Now is the perfect time,” Hilda says, with a toss of her long pigtails. “We could all die in that place. Don’t you want Claude to celebrate and have a happy day just in case?”

Well, it’s not that he _doesn’t_ want Claude to have a pleasant day, of course. But between war councils and battle preparations and the upcoming fight against an enemy still mostly unknown to them, it seems senseless to divert their attention or resources to merrymaking. They don’t have time for frivolity.

Hilda rests an elbow on the tabletop and leans toward him. “Listen, Felix, I know you’re not generally the type to enjoy what the rest of us refer to as fun, but Claude _is_ , and in case _you_ hadn’t noticed, we’ve all been working day and night, Claude and the professor most of all.” She waves a hand to encompass the entirety of the dining hall. “Look at all the downcast faces in here. Everyone is worn to the bone, everyone looks so _dour_. We could use a bit of revelry to ease the tension before we snap under the strain. I mean, it seems to me that it’s smarter to start our march well-rested, with a positive mental attitude, than weary and resigned to more bloodshed. But what do I know?” Hilda shrugs, adjusting one of the bracelets around her wrists. “I’m just a delicate flower, and I don’t know why they still _insist_ on putting me in battle.” 

Felix finds his gaze caught on her hands—small, fine-boned, deceptively fragile. He’s seen her decapitate a full-grown man without breaking a sweat, more than once, and Felix isn’t a coward by any definition, but at the end of the day, he’d rather stay on her good side than be at risk of meeting the end of her axe.

“All right,” Felix says, at length. “What do you want me to do?”

Hilda smiles at him, that charming, cajoling grin that has lured many a person around the monastery into doing her bidding. “We have to plan a feast! And while we’re at it, let’s see if the other Deer have any ideas.”

***

“We should make sure he gets a lot of meat,” Raphael says when Felix approaches him for suggestions the following day. “Meat builds muscles, you know, it’s a fact. Besides, no one can celebrate if they’re hungry! If tummies are rumbling, no one’s having a good time. Nothing like a hearty meal to kick off any kind of party!”

“Meat,” Felix repeats, biting back a sigh. But Raphael isn’t wrong. Doesn’t Felix himself appreciate a nice steak or a rich stew packed full of tender chunks of pheasant? “All right,” he tells Raphael. “You’re in charge of the feast.”

“Leave it to me,” Raphael says, grinning hugely. “I won’t let ya down there, Felix! We’ve gotta make sure Claude’s birthday is one to remember, and that he goes to bed with a full stomach.”

“Right,” Felix says, and then goes to find Ignatz.

“I could paint a picture for him,” Ignatz says, voice soft, timid as always. “A memento of the day.” 

Felix nods. 

Ignatz is a skillful archer, and he’s saved Felix’s life a time or two, but if he’s ever met another fighter less suited to warfare, Felix can’t remember it. Ignatz reminds him of a rabbit, twitchy and skittish, better hidden in the underbrush than on any blood-soaked battlefield—or perhaps, more suited to painting portraits and scenic landscapes while living in comfort, supported by a wealthy patron. Yet, they all have their individual crosses to bear, and Felix knows that very well. Whatever happened in Ignatz’s past led him here to Garreg Mach along with Felix, unlikely comrades-in-arms as they may be. And because he does fight, and he is courageous, he has Felix’s respect.

“I believe he might… like that,” Felix adds. Claude seems the sort who’d appreciate the thoughtfulness of such a gesture. Who’d mount his friend’s painting on his wall when the war has ended, to admire in the calm after the rage of this ongoing storm finally lessens.

He leaves Ignatz and seeks out Lysithea, finding her bent over a book in the library, as is her wont since they all returned to the monastery. She looks up as he approaches, expression flat and unimpressed. 

“I know why you’re here,” she says before he has a chance to speak. “I’ll be making Claude a cake, and I know you’re not fond of sweets, but this is his day, not yours, so don’t expect me to cater to you.”

“Fair enough.” Felix turns on his heel and starts to leave, but Lysithea calls after him softly. He shoots her a glance over his shoulder. “What?”

“It’s…” She hesitates, frowning. “Claude’s a good leader, and he’d never ask us to do anything like this, but I think he deserves it. And I… I’m grateful to you. I think he needed someone to open up to, someone loyal. I don’t know why he chose you,” she continues, blunt in a way Felix appreciates, even when it’s at his expense. “At first I couldn’t see how the two of you would possibly work together. But now I do, and you seem to be good for him.”

Felix doesn’t know what to say to that, so he tips his chin.

Lysithea, for her part, doesn’t seem to expect anything more from him. She returns her attention to her book, and Felix exits the library as quietly as he entered.

He hunts down Leonie next, and of course, she’s in the woods setting traps as she usually is. Half the meat in the monastery’s pantry comes from her, and everyone is grateful, including Felix.

“Any pitfalls I should look out for?” Felix asks. She’s one of the few people he ever attempts to joke with, and mostly because she’d bested him in a completely unexpected manner during their months at the academy. He has to admire someone who can get one over on him, even if he’d been furious at first.

“If there were, I wouldn’t tell you,” she says with a smirk. She finishes setting her trap and gets to her feet, dusting her hands off on her shorts. “Did you need something? Oh, wait—is this about Claude?”

“It is.” Felix crosses his arm over his chest.

“Ah, yes, the birthday feast.” Leonie nods. “Raphael talked to me about it earlier. He’s requested lots of meat, so I’ll be helping with that. And I’ve been working on some new arrows I think Claude will appreciate. That’ll be my contribution.”

“Good.” Weapons are the perfect offering, in Felix’s opinion. Also, in their professor’s opinion, he thinks—or at least ceremonial versions. Felix has a whole stack of decorative swords in the corner of his chambers due to Byleth’s penchant for gift giving.

“I’d best be on my way,” Leonie says, brushing hair out of her face. “Lots of traps to set before dark.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

He goes straight to the stables afterward. Predictably, Marianne is there, murmuring to a horse as she brushes the mare’s thick mane. She’s different now, changed so much from the girl she was during five years ago. A gain of confidence and the support of Byleth and the Golden Deer had done wonders. Gone was the girl who refused to meet anyone’s gaze, though Felix had never faulted her for avoiding eye contact. She’s bloomed, and while he and Hilda rarely agree on just about anything and tend to irritate each other at every turn, Felix can acknowledge she’s been good for Marianne, too. 

“Marianne,” he greets, and she raises her head, giving him a slight smile.

“Hello, Felix.”

“It’s about Claude.”

“Oh.” Marianne turns her attention back to the horse, sweeping the brush along its flank. “Yes, Hilda told me you might come find me. I do have plans in place already. I spoke to Claude’s wyvern, and she told me her saddle is causing her discomfort. I’ve found another, and I believe it’ll be more comfortable for them both.”

“Ah,” Felix says, and finds himself completely at a loss for what else to add. Several of the Deer have mentioned Marianne’s ability to speak to animals, and he’s not entirely sure he believes she possesses such a talent. Regardless, Claude will get a new saddle, and as he spends a lot of time on wyvernback, that seems ideal. “Thank you, Marianne.”

He finds the last of his quarry, one Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, having tea in the gardens. Felix stomps up to him and points a finger. “You.”

“Yes?” Lorenz says, arching a thin purple brow. “It is I. To what do I owe the pleasure, Felix?”

“I suppose Hilda has spoken to you as well?”

Lorenz gently sets his teacup down. “If you’re referring to the revelries in planning for Claude’s birthday, let me assure you, I have my role well in hand. I will, of course, be arranging place settings. Only one who knows the intricacies of noble society can be responsible for who is seated next to whom. Why, allowing the wrong two people to rub elbows at such a soiree could very well lead to border disputes, if not handled with finesse. The dining hall is not… ideal. Certainly, it cannot compare to the ballrooms of House Gloucester. Nevertheless, I shall persevere. Also, I recently discovered a book on etiquette that I believe will do for Claude quite nicely. Although he’s undoubtedly handled his position as Duke with much more poise than I anticipated, one can never—”

“Fine, whatever,” Felix says, pivoting on his heel as Lorenz sputters behind him.

Felix rubs his temples as he walks away. Saints, how do Claude or the professor endure the constant blabbering necessitated by their respective positions? Felix isn’t one for idle prattle, or organizing parties, but here he is, forced to act because Claude is… Well. Because Claude means more to him than he likes to admit to himself. More than he’s admitted to Claude, either, though Claude likely suspects. Felix wouldn’t have returned to his bed, night after night, or shared private meals with him in his chambers, or let himself be held while they slept, if there weren’t deeper feelings involved. 

Claude is clever, capable of reading people and seeing beyond the barriers they erect to protect themselves. He probably ferreted out Felix’s secrets long ago, but he’s done Felix the honor of not exposing the softness that lingers beneath his defensive, prickly exterior to anyone else. Not that Claude won’t challenge him publicly about plenty of other things, but deep down, Felix enjoys that side of their relationship, too. The first time he landed in Claude’s bed resulted from such a confrontation.

Felix ducks his head to hide his small smile at the memory. All right. So. Claude is worth the awkwardness of some of these conversations, and worth the effort of planning festivities Felix would normally scorn and avoid. Hilda is right—they may not have a future beyond their next battle, and some frivolity wouldn’t go amiss. Just this once.

***

The day itself turns into a series of disasters.

Raphael ensured their feast would include plenty of meat, but unfortunately, that was _all_ their meal consisted of. Rabbit meat, venison, fox meat. Nothing but skewers, thick steaks, small filets, thick chunks in gravy… and not a single side dish or accompaniment to be seen, aside from Lysithea’s cake, for which she’d accidentally replaced the sugar with salt.

Claude blanched the instant he had it in his mouth, and watching him chew and swallow while sweat appeared along his hairline was an exercise in restraint for Felix, who’d wanted to yell for him to spit it out.

“That was unexpected,” Claude said after his one and only mouthful. “But thank you, Lysithea. I do appreciate the thought.”

Lysithea had, of course, been completely mortified after making such an amateur mistake, though Claude just gamely laughed it off.

By the end of the night, though, what with salty cake, enough meat to feed a few battalions, Lorenz’s constant posturing, and guests vying left and right for Claude’s attention, he looks dead on his feet. Claude is good at pretending—in fact, Felix would wager no one else has even noticed—but Felix does, and he marches right up to Claude and grabs his upper arm, pulling him away from a conversation without so much as a by your leave.

“Come on.”

He expects Claude to protest or confront him for the rudeness, but all Claude does is laugh. “Well,” he says mildly, “that’s not quite how I would have extricated myself from that conversation, Felix, but I appreciate the rescue.”

Felix huffs. “They’d taken enough of your time.” He drags Claude along after him, to the room on the second floor, which Claude has claimed for his own, now that the dormitories are in a sorry state and everyone agreed their leader should be in chambers that weren’t threatening to crumble.

He pulls Claude to the bed and pushes on his shoulders until Claude sits down on the edge. “Wait there. I’ll make tea.”

Felix knows where Claude keeps the supplies by now. Although he retains his own room for appearance’s sake, he spends more time in Claude’s chambers than anywhere else. It’s as much his as it is Claude’s at this point, and they love the same tea, Almyran Pine, which is both convenient and makes it easy enough to brew a whole pot instead of having to measure out different blends into separate cups.

Felix prepares the tea with the same efficiency he does everything else, and soon he’s setting cups on the small table, along with the savory pastries he’d sneaked in earlier. Claude doesn’t mind sweet, but he doesn’t prefer the sugary pies and tarts the others do. He’s never complained about the ones Felix buys, flaky and stuffed with soft cheese and fragrant herbs.

“Thanks for this,” Claude says when he takes a seat at the table. “I appreciate the celebration, but I have to admit, I’m exhausted. I wasn’t expecting it to be… that.”

Felix snorts. “I should have thought to ask Rapheal what else he planned for the menu.”

Claude laughs and sweeps a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “Well, I won’t be craving meat anytime soon, that’s for certain. Maybe I’ll just eat vegetables for a while.”

Felix chuckles, shaking his head. “It was a bit much.”

Claude reaches across the table to squeeze his fingers. “It was great. I’ll thank everyone else tomorrow.”

“They have gifts for you.” Felix groans as he remembers. “Should we go back down?”

“No. It can wait until morning. The quiet is nice.” Claude picks up his tea and takes a slow sip, humming softly. “This is good, thanks.”

Felix drops his gaze to the tabletop, his cheeks warming. “You’re welcome. Happy birthday.”

“Do you have a gift for me, too?” Claude asks, and his voice is teasing, but Felix jerks his head up, eyes wide.

All of this planning, and he’d forgotten to buy a gift of his own. What a fitting end to the evening.

But Claude only laughs. “I was joking, Felix. I don’t need anything. Well… save for maybe a kiss, if you’re amenable.”

Felix wets his mouth. “That… that I can do.”

Claude winks at him. “Then I'll be satisfied.”

They finish their tea, and Claude gets to his feet, stretching. Felix watches as he strips down to his underwear, completely unselfconscious as he bares more and more skin. Claude scratches at his furry chest and gives Felix a sleepy-eyed smile.

“Join me?”

It doesn’t take long for Felix to strip down to his own underthings. Claude observes him from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and arches his brows when Felix comes to kneel between his parted thighs.

“I owe you a kiss, don’t I?” Felix asks. He leans forward to press his lips to Claude’s sternum.

Claude’s hands settle in his hair as he trails downwards. A few tugs and the tie in his ponytail comes undone, letting the inky locks fall messily around his shoulders.

Felix dips his head to blow over the bulge beneath the linen of Claude’s braies. He’s not fully hard just yet, but he’s already well on his way, growing visibly stiffer at the feel of Felix’s warm breath. “I could kiss you here.”

“You could,” Claude says, voice gone deeper but still with that playful edge. “I think that would be lovely.”

“Hmm.” Felix undoes Claude’s laces and pulls out his cock, smirking at Claude’s pleased little hiss. Claude is a nice size, and he smells delicious, musky with the sharp tang of precome, the scent familiar by now. Felix draws down his foreskin to reveal the damp head and presses his lips just there, under the head. “Here?”

Claude’s hips jerk. “Ah… _yes_.”

Felix presses another kiss to the base, sucks briefly on one of his balls, and then drags his tongue back up to the tip, circling the sensitive crown. 

Claude shifts, spreading his thighs, inviting Felix closer. “Come on, Your Grace,” he murmurs, his fingers sinking into Felix’s loose hair. “Suck me. It’s my birthday, after all.”

Felix flashes a look up at him, takes just the head into his mouth, and hums.

“ _Fuck_.” Claude’s fingers tighten, sending sharp stings across Felix’s scalp. “Take more. Take me all the way. I know you can.”

Felix can indeed, and since it’s Claude’s birthday, he does without any further teasing, sinking right down to the hilt.

“That’s it,” Claude says, green eyes bright with approval when Felix glances up to meet them. “Perfect.” He touches Felix’s lips where they’re stretched wide by his girth. He’s thicker than he is long, and Felix loves the way Claude’s cock fills him up, consumes his senses until he feels like he can barely breathe, barely think about anything but the cock on his tongue, the taste of it, the scent in his nostrils.

He lets Claude take control then, maintaining suction while Claude grips his hair and drags his mouth up and down the length of his dick. Right now, he’s little more than a toy, just an object for Claude to use for his pleasure, and before they started this relationship, this affair, whatever it is, Felix thought he would chafe at the idea of being reduced to a _thing_ , of being used. But in reality, it arouses him so much he can feel his underwear growing damp as his erection throbs and precome starts to leak from the tip.

The head of Claude’s dick slips into his throat, and he pushes in hard, not letting go until Felix gags around him. Then he does it again, and again, the slick, filthy sound filling the room, along with Felix’s broken moans and Claude’s loud panting.

Tears form at the corners of Felix’s eyes as Claude fucks into him, his hips jerking up from the bed. Felix takes it, eager and hungry, even as the moisture on his lashes spills over and trails down his cheeks.

“Look at you,” Claude says, rough-voiced, practically growling as Felix slobbers on his dick and spit dribbles down his chin onto Claude’s sac. “Look how good you are for me. How well you take my cock.”

Felix’s whimpers around his mouthful and tries to suck, greedy for the taste of Claude. But everything’s so wet and sloppy, and Claude’s moving so quickly, he gives up in the next second, focusing on trying not to come all over himself as Claude keeps pressing into his throat, stealing his breath.

By the time Claude goes rigid and pulses against his tongue, Felix’s head is spinning. Warm, salty spend floods his mouth, and he swallows it down as if it’s all he’s been craving, all he needs to sustain him.

In the next moment, Claude drags him up onto the bed and kisses him. He shoves the waistband of Felix’s underwear to his upper thighs and fists his cock, thumbing at the slit. Felix moans, arching, as Claude bears him down to the mattress. Claude hasn’t stopped kissing him, deep, ardent, and just the kiss itself is enough to send Felix reeling toward the precipice in a matter of moments.

The cry that bursts out of him is one Felix will probably cringe to recall later, but for now, he enjoys the way Claude responds—how he moans, kisses Felix even deeper, covers Felix’s body so when he comes, it’s all over Claude’s firm, muscled belly.

Afterward, Felix buries his face in Claude’s neck, breaths still ragged, twitching from the occasional spasm as he drifts down from his orgasm. 

They’ll have to get up, wipe themselves off so they don’t wake crusty and sticky in the morning, but Claude’s arms are strong, and his chest is warm. Felix can’t bring himself to move quite yet. The party may have been a failure, but this… this is good. Something to savor. A private, tender moment for just the two of them.

“You know,” Claude says. “I feel bad for everyone else. No other present is going to top this one. I’ll have to apologize to them all right upfront. Tell them you’re the ultimate gift giver.” 

Felix swats at his side. “Don’t you dare.”

Claude's whole torso shakes as he laughs. “I won’t. But I’ll be thinking it.”

“As long as you only _think_ it.” Felix tips his head back so he can meet Claude’s gaze. Those pretty green eyes are crinkled with amusement, but already growing heavy with sleep. He never rests very easily, neither of them do, but it’s better when they’re together. As everything else is. “Was it a good day?”

“The _best_ day.” Claude tugs at his hair and kisses him. “But I don’t know if I can ever try one of Lysithea’s cakes again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos very much appreciated. :D
> 
> Come find me [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/MxTicketyBoo). I love connecting with fellow FE3H fans! <3


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